Under Investigation
by The Man Who Speaks In Hands
Summary: After an anonymous tip renders the secret of the nations being living personifications out in public view, the nations are trapped in New York after a meeting, unable to leave as Paparazzi threatens to tear them to shreds, and so does the CIA. T for swearing and angst.
1. Prologue

**_Caught and Investigated._**

The next world meeting took place in America, and it was scheduled for everyone to show up.

New York was packed, and the world seemed to grow and shrink at the same time.

Then, a discovery was made, put in by an anonymous tip and proof that countries had living personifications. Then, everything went to hell. The media had a flippin' parade. Everyone, who didn't live under thirty tons of concrete, knew that every nation had a personification.

After the meeting, Germany had slid America note.

" _Meet at top of meeting building, 7:00 PM."_

America put the note in his pocket, and did as instructed.

Germany stood at the top of a building, next to a sheepish American. "...and HOW did they find it out?" "I dunno, dude! It wasn't me! I'm telling you!" "Who would want us caught... Who knows about... Us?" "All our bosses. But they wouldn't go through all the trouble of getting us killed.. Even though we _can't_ be." America chuckled at what could have been called a bright side.

Having caught America and Germany by surprise, Britain slammed the stairwell door. "America, you have a lot of damn explaining to do!" America spun around, preparing to beg. Germany held up a hand to calm Britain. "He didn't do it. But now we must be very careful."

"Um.. Guys.. I gotta tell you something...," America took a deep breath, "I'm being mandated to reveal myself. My boss says it will 'emphasize my country's government's transparency.'" America used air quotes.

Germany and Britain applied terrified looks. "Can't you get out of that?" "According to him? No."

Britain's posture sagged. "We'll all get found out.. systematically. Starting with you."

Germany cringed. "I'll never had solidarity again.. Oh shiesse, Japan will NOT take this well.." "I kinda told him already? He's not comforted either..."

"Vhen's zhe deadline for you to reveal yourself?" A German accent called out, causing the three countries to jump.

"Don't do that Prussia!.. The end of tomorrow."

Britain cringed, and laughed sadistically. "This... This is my last night of living an average man's life!," Britain cackled. "I'm never going to sleep again, fearing the paparazzi to overrun my home!" Britain's broken laughter slowly became sobs.

Germany's left eye twitched. "Gott verdammt!" The angered Germanic yelled.

"I'll never make it to meetings or work on time. I'm no God who needs to be worshipped, I'm just Germany!" "That's what I'm worried about.." Germany looked down from the sky, eyes lain on Canada who had successfully snuck up on the four.

"People seem to always go under my damn rada-" "America!" "Sorry.. Can Adder?" "Canada. Anyways, I'm scared people will be scared. Act harshly. Attempt to assassinate us. Some people won't tolerant of.. Figuratively speaking.. _**Immortals**_."

America had stopped listening, and was checking his Twitter feed. America read the tweet's, unaware of everyone gathered behind him, looking at his phone.

 _-I wanna meet our Nation! #'MericanRepReveal_

 _-I don't think it'll go smoothly.. #'MericanRepReveal_

 _-I'd like to meet him/her packing a 44. Live like an American, die like a redneck._

 _More nation protests coming soon. #DownWithThePersonifications_

America stared worrying at the bottom text. He had smiled when reading the top one. Everyone else shared his reaction.

Now, there were two more unnoticed nations looking over the five men's shoulders.

"Shet." All of the nations jumped. "This will cost a lot of money to protect ourselves now! People will do crap to get us to reveal ourselves!" Switzerland's angered expression was familiar to all of them, but not on this level. "Also, your airplanes suck America." "Oh screw off! Like yours are any better!" Cuba laughed.

 _Then, the countries, like any unsettling night conversation after a world meeting, went on bickering back and forth. Attempting to remain sane at how much change was to come after tomorrow_

 **Hope you like this story! I know it's an old idea, but I think I can write it.**

 **language key!**

Shiesse-shit.

Gott Verdammt- God damnit.


	2. Admittance

_Last time on, Under Investigation.._

 _"Meet on the roof at 7:00 PM." "Then how did they find out?" "I dunno dude! It wasn't me, I'm telling you!" "I'm being mandated to reveal myself..." "This is my last day of solitude.."_

/\/\\\\\/\|\

America leaned up from the bed. He got up, walked to the bathroom, and brushed his teeth. He groggily thought of last night, and how, after multiple shots of liquor, he went to bed. "Ugh, I gotta turn myself in to my own citizens today.." Alertness shot to America's eyes. "Shit, shit, shit.." He ran around the hotel room in search of a clock.

"Oh.. What a relief." It was only 2:37 AM, he still had plenty of time to think up a speech. He got dressed, now wearing a blue plaid shirt with a white T-shirt underneath, and jeans.

As America thought of what he should say, he shuddered at the thought of that tweet from last night. " _I'd like to meet him/her with a 44. Live an American, die like a redneck."_

America quickly realized people obviously shared that opinion with that guy. America knew there was no way of getting out of revealing himself. He was picking his poison at this point. Reveal himself, and have there be riots. Not reveal himself, and have there be riots. America inwardly sighed. A knock at the door.

"Mr. Alfred Jones?" "Who is this?" "This is federal agent Simon Lennon. Open up."

America opened the door slowly, a look of fear in his eyes. Agent Lennon was shorter than America, and less bulky too, but America just felt an intimidating aura coming off the agent. He wore a black fedora, and a black pin stripe suit.

"So.. We recently received intelligence from the executive. He know's your hesitant to turn yourself in to the public. We know about you, Mr. Jones. Don't even try to run."

America cringed at the agent.

Agent Lennon laughed.

"Follow me, captain America." America realized this agent was one of those who opposed his very existence.

America followed him, closely. They reached the end of the hall, and the agent turned the corner, before turning around and starting to walk backwards, facing America.

"So.. What's it like?" "Huh?" "How is it to be more than 210 years old, and look not a day over 21?" "Look man.. I'm saving an epic joke for the reporters, when they ask me that question.. I'd rather not leak it."

America false-smiled, and what bothered him? The agent bought it. At least America thought he did. 'Damn CIA mind games.' America thought bitterly.

Eventually, America and Agent Lennon reached a black sedan, which, with America riding in the back, Agent Lennon took America to the Whitehouse with. America was pelted with questions, not that the CIA agent didn't know something America knew. America knew the government had been onto him a long time. No one man lives over 210 years.

Finally, America arrived, and was walked up the steps, and was brought into an office, only bearing a desk and paper.

America was sat down, with two CIA agents giving recommendations on what he should say. (and baby sitting him.) Eventually, America froze up after Lennon asked "So.. Who are the other nations?" "Uh... You don't know that?" A new brand of honesty shone on Agent Lennon's face as he said, flat out, "Nope."

"Uh... Which one do you wanna know about?" America pretended to write on the still blank sheet of paper. "Hmm.. Let's try Canada. They're allied with us."

"Mathew? He looks a lot like me except with an polar opposite in personality. Cuba once beat the crap out of him mistaking him for me." America snickered, and Agent Lennon seemed satisfied.

"Why aren't you writing on the paper, Alfred F. Jones?" "Because I already know what I wanna say!" "Which is?" "I'll just say hello to a lot of people, dodge the sniper fire, and convince people I'm America."

"'Dodge the sniper fire'?" "Oh you know, newly established hate groups that hate people for no reason. But are still subject to my constitution and still have second amendment rights."

After 2 more hours of 84 questions (21 questions times 4) Both agent's watches beeped, and Agent Lennon took off his glasses and struck an epic pose and said "It's time..."

He held the pose for another fifteen seconds before re-adjusting his posture and laughing. "Sorry, I just really wanted to do that and have been holding it in for two hours."

He walked America out onto the steps of the Whitehouse, and there was already a mob forming, as America was shoved up to a podium. "H-Hello.. There.. Citizens."

He heard someone in crowd yell "Real smooth dumbass!" "I'm America. The great U.S.A's personified representative! It's been an honor, serving this role bestowed upon me for the last two hundred and forty one years!"

"How do we know your the real America?!" Another loud crowd member shouted. "How do you know if I'm NOT the real America? The ugly truth is I can't prove it to you. But I can damn well try!"

A loud **_BANG_** resounded.

America was knocked down from the podium, onto his ass. He stood back up.

America looked down at the _red splotch_ on his nice _blue_ plaid shirt.

There was a scuffle, but you could see in the crowd the CIA agents tackling the shooter.

Finally, a little girl in the crowd found her voice, and started screaming bloody murder. And then the rest of the mob joined in.

America's chest was now soaked with blood, and he was still standing. Everyone started to take in why he hadn't dropped dead. That hit him right in the heart. "Hehe, see? Immortal." America pointed at himself with his thumbs.

America started cheering "USA! USA! USA!" And the whole crowd joined in. "Alfred Jones, signing out, peace people!" America ran off the stage back to Agent Lennon, who was standing off to the side.

The reporters all stormed the two men as they forced their way through Paparazzi Hell, back into the Whitehouse.

Agent Lennon was still pale, staring at the now dried blood stain on America's shirt. "What?" "I-I'm sorry.. Alfred.. I've just never seen someone get shot with _a .50 caliber sniper rifle, in the heart for Christ's sake_ , and get back up."

 **Heheh. I hope you guys like this, because this is kinda UN-edited.**


	3. And Stay Out!

**Under Investigation III**

 **I love this story. I love writing this story. I love the peeps who read it. Sorry, just being me being weird again.**

Germany sat, staring at the TV. He'd just watched America get shot, and the shooter's Identity was flashed on the screen. "Nathan Santo. Prussia, doesn't that name sound familiar?" "Yeah... Oh right! That's the name of the guy who threatened to shoot America with a hunting revolver on Twitter!"

"We should start using the human names.. I don't want to get shot, it looked painful." Prussia shuddered. "Uh.. What's up.. Ludwig?" Prussia awkwardly paused. They weren't used to using those names, even when it was just them. They normally weren't near each other when they called each other those names. "Just listening to the news."

"Nathan Santo is being questioned by the CIA, and will probably be behind bars for a long time. On the other hand, Alfred Jones is America! We await the names and pictures of the other nations. Due to the recent world meeting, we suspect the nations are around where Alfred is staying."

Prussia and Germany's eyes grew to the size of plates. "Oh shiesse." "This is why I didn't want to stay in the same hotel!"

Prussia and Germany heard lots of footfall's in the lobby, as their room was right above it. "They're gonna check out all the rooms.. Whoever isn't a reporter or a random guy is a country..." "Britain is probably thinking the same thing."

There was a frantic knocking at the door.

"Let me in!" It was Japan!

Germany opened the door, and Japan jumped into the room, and slammed the door behind him, panting.

"I got found out! They're checking all the rooms... And now the staff is in on it too!" Germany held his temples. "I already stress about work, and my boss is starting to lose his mind because I'm not returning, and he won't understand that I'll probably never be ABLE to leave America, at least not for a while."

Prussia looked out the window. There were tens upon hundreds of news vans outside. He looked up.. And then shouted "Ludwig? Kiku? You might wanna see this."

There was a helicopter, with a searchlight, and with CIA written in big white letters on the side.

Prussia, Germany, and Japan slowly realized why that caravan of black unmarked vans was there for. Apparently, the Central Intelligence Agency wanted a little chat.

"So.. Who do you want to get caught by first?" "What?" "The CIA or the Paparazzi. Who first?" Prussia opened the window, and leaned out to see the six black S.U.V's in a perfect row at the entrance of the hotel.

Germany considered and thought out loud. "We get caught by the CIA, we may never be seen again and treated horribly. We get caught by paparazzi, they tear us to shreds." Prussia tapped his fingers on his chin. "I choose the former. The latter gives us a definite chance of pain, or separation." There was a knock at the door. "Mr. Bielschmidt?" Prussia mouthed "shit." Repeatedly, and asked loudly "Who is thiiiis?"

"Agent Lennon." Prussia raises an eyebrow. This man's voice was NOTHING like how he'd seen on TV. Prussia held a finger over his lips to silence the other nations, as he prepared to do a trick he had used on a lot of people. He was strong enough to open a door the wrong way. So he did.

BASH! Prussia caught a glimpse of the man who looked nothing like Agent Lennon

As Prussia and the rest suspected, he heard what sounded like camera's falling on the ground and a yell of "OW FUCK MY NOSE!" Prussia "kesesese'd." And then turned to the other nations. "Problem solved!"

 **I know this chapter is really short, I'm just having a little writer's block. I'll cure it soon enough.**


	4. Italian Job

**Under Investigation IV**

 **Hey. Thanks for all the positive support! I hold all my readers near and dear (internet hug anyone?)**

North Italy was hiding in the bathroom.

Romano was running down the street, being chased down by security vans and news vans.

The reporters had forced their way into the Italian's room, and Romano had jumped out the window screaming "AMERICAN MEDIA BAAAASTAAAAAAAAARDSSSS!" Until he had hit the pavement below.

Italy was crying softly, the giddy reporters and even a cop was now banging on the door. "Mr Italy, do you have anything to say?!" "Mr. Italy, show your face!" "Mr. Italy!"

He continued whining, and then screamed out "Go awayyyyy~!"

"Go chase my brother! Leave me alone!"

Meanwhile,

Romano had finally been run down by three men in security armor carrying assault rifles.

They all tackled him, applied handcuffs, and threw him in the black SUV, the whole time he screamed obscenities and profanity the author won't replicate in polite company.

Eventually, after he had begged for pasta or food for 3 hours, the van stopped, and they herded Romano out of the van. "Keep moving sir."

"What are you going to do to me, _hamburger-security-armor-wearing, assault-rifle-toting-bastards!?"_

"We just wanna run some diagnostics, asshole." "Screw your diagnostics! Lemme go!" The South Italian fought the whole time as he was dragged towards a white, cinder block building.

Eventually, Romano was thrown into a room, of which contained lots of expensive equipment, fifty scientists, and the thing Romano noticed first.. Thirteen boxes of pasta, and an oven.

"Hello, South Italy." "Why you bring-a me here!?" The lead scientist readjusted his glasses. "Like the security said, run diagnostics."

Two men in security armor rushed Romano, and held him up by both arms as a scientist walked up cautiously with a needle. Romano, terrified on needles, kicked and screamed unceremoniously.

 ** _Meanwhile Meanwhile,_**

North Italy cried more as the door was now hanging on by a single hinge. "Go away!"

Italy heard some shouting, a few punches, some yelling, a few German curses, before something kicked the door down. Italy shrieked, and stood up in his best fighting stance.

The sight he never expected was before him. 14 reporters lie on the floor, out cold. "Come on!" Germany yelled. Germany and Prussia dragged Italy, as Japan tailed them both.

They ran until they reached the front, and then they walked casually out the doors, trying their best to look like casual, obsessed reporters.

Prussia had called a cab, and just as someone had seen Germany's iron cross necklace and put two and two together, yelled and pointed him out, the cab pulled up.

"Where you going sirs?" "AWAY FROM HERE, STEP ON IT!" Prussia yelled.

Japan squirmed uncomfortably, being squished by the three other men in the cab's backseat. "Where's Romano?" "He ran off. I'm sure he's okay. He is invulnerable after all." Italy smiled.

 ** _Meanwhile Meanwhile Meanwhile,_**

Romano had tired, and his blood had been taken. The scientist walked away, put the blood on a piece of glass, slid piece of glass into a machine which released some bleeps and bloops, until a small slip of paper, almost receipt like. One scientist nodded to another.

Romano hadn't noticed due to the numbness in his arm that another scientist had poked his arm, but was injecting something. Then the scientist smiled and said "Come again."

"What?"

"Come again. This is a _hospital_."

"WHAT!? Why did you need to drag me here by security!?"

"You haven't been vaccinated for hundreds of years right?"

It slowly dawned on the Sicilian that maybe he WAS as dumb as he looked.

The scientist nodded slightly, grinning sheepishly. "Yes.. The guards and the cuffs may have been a bit excessive, but.. Technically you were a walking bio-hazard. You've probably made a lot of people very sick. Trust me, I'm a doctor. I'd know a thing or two about that."

South Italy facepalmed. "Stupid Medic-bastard..." He whispered under his breath, as he walked out the glass doors, and slowly questioned he how he'd missed the MASSIVE sign that said "Charlotte memorial hospital", and the giant Red Cross.

 **Lol, sorry, my Romano is stupid. I love writing him out to be an idiot. Anyways, thanks readers!**


	5. BONUS! Just a little thing

**Under Investigation V**

 **I want to try something new as a new author, I want to try to make a branching story possibly. I dunno, maybe this'll be a one-off type thing, and I'll go back to the main story, but here this is.. A man who doesn't know he's a country. Or rather.. This man is uncharted territory.**

 **This is set in the point of view of the reader or on occasion, the CIA.**

A man in a brown winter coat, a large grey scarf around his neck, green winter pants, and black boots sits very still, aiming a hunting rifle very carefully. He glances around at the snowy scenery, then back to the deer who had found itself in his way.

 _Breath._

 _Squeeze._

The rifle kicked the man back, but the deer was rendered dead.

He stood up, so one could see all of his features, he had one blue eye, and one grey eye. He wore glasses, both lenses bearing a purple tint. He was slightly tan, and muscled.

He hung the rifle back over his shoulder by the sling, and then made his way toward the unfortunate victim of nature.

If one were to look close enough, and see through all the cloth covering his face, they could see he was very heavily scarred.

He made the way to the deer, slung it over his shoulder, and made his long walk back toward his cabin.

* ** _time skip_** *

The same man stood in his log cabin, in what an American would describe as the middle of nowhere, he warmed his hands on the furnace.

He had two coats,one brown, with the name "Sergei" stitched into the front, the other his hunting coat.

Sergei brushed his hands together, watching the fire slowly cook the meat. He slowly thought of why he was here, but then reminded himself he had no idea where he was.

Sergei had shown up here two weeks ago, with a hunting rifle and his coat. He had no idea whom he was other than the letters on his coat. No idea how he'd gotten there. No idea who built the cabin. He had yet to talk to anyone.

Unless of course to tell his pet bear to stay out of the damn food.

Speak of the devil.

The large brown mass of fur and muscle clawed lightly at the door, until Sergei stood and opened it. The bear strode in, and lay down on the rug, and relaxed.

"You seem tired. What you do?" The bear growled. "What you do? You never this tired when come back." Sergei's Russian accent growled back. The bear raised its head, and gave Sergei a face that only communicated one sentence. 'Shut up.' Was plastered all over the bear's face.

Sergei crooked an eyebrow, before walking up, and scratching the massive bear on the head. Any normal man would think this insane. Sergei, due to never seeing another person before, had no definition for normal man.

The bear whined. 'STAHP!'

Sergei continued.

Sergei looked at his coat, hanging on the rack on the wall, and felt a small bit of him become depressed. Why had be come here? How had he come here? Was there a way out?

Sergei then heard something he had never heard before. Another voice.

Most of it was gibberish until whoever it was got very close to the cabin.

"Oh thank goodness! A cabin!" "I think the owner won't be happy to see us." "Nonsense! Whoever sees us will be very happy there's another person within a hundred miles!"

Sergei grabbed his rifle, put his coat on, and opened the door so he was in plain view.

"Hello there!" Sergei held his mouth shut. "Who are you?" Sergei maintained his silence. "Can we come in?" Sergei gave the decision three seconds, before nodding.

The men in coats ran the last fifteen yards, snow crunching underneath their feet.

"Who are you?" Sergei continued his silence, and tried not to laugh when the two men started yelling about the bear in the room.

Sergei sat down on the carpet, and scratched the bear on the belly, as the two men's jaws dropped.

The two men sat down on the couch that was against the wall, but close to the furnace, and warmed their hands and feet.

"Sir, just tell us who you are."

"I'm Sergei. It says it on my coat."

The two men, now that Sergei focused on their features, were polar opposites.

One had brown, combed hair, and was wearing a blue coat, and yellow pants.

The other had dyed green hair and was wearing a black coat with gray pants.

"Who are you two?"

"I'm Agent Wesson. This is Agent Taylor." "What are you doing here?" "We came to ask you the same question." "I live here." "Sir, you live in the South Pole?" "Look, I been here since I last remember. I appear here two week ago, no memory, nothing." The two agents looked at each other, and nodded.

Sergei raised an eyebrow.

The two both drew weird boxes, and held them like a pistol, and shot Sergei.

Sergei writhed on the hardwood floor, many volts of electricity coursing through him.

"Sorry."

* ** _time skip_** *

Sergei nodded awake, and looked around. He was strapped down on a table, with a blinding light overhead.

Sergei easily ripped one restrained, and then another, and then did the ones on his legs, until he hopped off the table, and noticed he was now wearing a white T-shirt and white shorts.

Sergei shivered.

"Hello? Anyone's?" No one appeared, as Sergei left the room, and entered a much warmer, much smaller room with buttons on the wall. He pressed one labeled "G" and he almost screamed as he shot into the air, eventually stopped, and as he stepped out of the elevators, he was pointed out.

Two men wearing some type of armor ran towards Sergei, carrying assault rifles.

The first ran up, and attempted to hit Sergei with the butt of his rifle. Sergei retaliated by not letting it have the slightest effect, and then raising his hand to flick the man through two walls.

The second man backed off in fear, his comrade now behind the reception desk, probably in a coma.

"Where am I?" Sergei asked politely to the security armor bearing man who had just soiled his pants. "C-C-CIA research facility.. Just back off South Pole!" "South Pole? Who is South Pole?" "You are sir.. You're a living personifi-fica-cation." "Of who?" "The South Pole! We-we took you from there."

'The South Pole?' Sergei wondered. 'That doesn't sound right..'

Sergei shrugged, "Where did you out my clothes?" "Take two lefts and a right.." The security armor wearing man backed off, and stayed back as Sergei marched toward the descript location, which lo and behold, had his clothes in it.

Sergei changed, and as he made his way out of the room, a group of twenty men bearing heavy machine guns lead by a short woman stood in his way.

"Stop, South Pole!" "What did I do?" "One, you flicked a man through a wall!" "He attacked me." "Whatever, two, you need to stay here! You need to be researched, an-" Sergei cut her off by walking right past her as she was talking. "ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME!?" "No." He said softly as he walked through the doors of the building.

Then Sergei almost died from a heat stroke half a second into his venture outside.

What the hell was up with these trees? They looked nothing like the pines at home.

Sergei already missed the snow, though he also missed not being followed five feet behind him everywhere. The woman continued talking AT Sergei, but he never listened, and eventually found he was in a place called "Florida."

His clothing was much too heavy for this weather.

The woman eventually stood in his way, and remained there, and stepped back in his way when he tried to go around her. "Look, I don't know what makes me so interesting, but I politely request you fuck off." "Look, South Pole, just-." "No. I don't want to be part of your stupid arse thing about countries. I want to go home."

She took out a phone, and started yelling to a person named "Donald" over said phone, until finally she "hmmph!'d" and hung up, and said "Fine! Go back to the South Pole."

* ** _time skip_** *

Sergei sat at the cabin's couch, the bear sitting in front of him, enjoying the belly rubs. Sergei slowly wondered if he really wanted to meet people like him. Sergei regretted denying the chance to travel the other places of the world, though he assumed they were all hot and sticky.

Then he threw a glance to the beacon they had installed in his home, as an "if you change your mind" thing. Sergei drifted off to sleep, dreaming of other nations.

 **OKAY! Big chapter! I just wanted to write the South Pole for a long time, and chose to stick him in here. Also, if you want me to stick South Pole or Sergei in somewhere in this story other than this one chapter, say so!**


	6. Airport Mayhem

**Under Investigation VI**

 **Please, review. It doesn't matter whether it's constructive criticism or just plain praise, it's all accepted**

The four countries sat in the back of the cab, struggling for space, until eventually Italy yelled about seeing Romano standing on the side of the street. Now, there were five men in the taxi.

The driver chuckled. "Don't break the doors. Or the seats." "Shut-a up! I just spent two hours in a hospital's parking lot!"

After about two hours of bickering and annoyance between the Germanics and Italians and the Japanese man stuffed into the middle, the cab stopped. "Where do you need to go, fellas?" "The airport."

The driver raised an eyebrow, and then turned back to the front, and started driving.

Eventually, they came to the massive parking lot, currently noisy as hell. Japan covered his ears, Germany hissed out his pain, and the Italians complained. And complained. And then complained some more.

What felt like days later, the nations were finally outside the cab, stretching their limbs. "Pay?" "What?" "The whole drive costed $130 and 12 cents." "Er.." Germany checked his pockets. No wallet.

"Gilbert, you have money, ja?" "Yea-" Prussia checked his pocket. "Nein. Nein, I do not have money." Germany turned to Italy, a pleading look on his face. The Italians shook their head no.

Finally, everyone looked to Japan. "I have $130 and 11 cents." The cab driver heard what Japan said, and gave an infuriated look. "Look, buddy, you pay me. Now." "We're off by one cent. Can't I just cut you a check?" "NO, I need the money NOW!"

Prussia saw multiple people walked by. Prussia tapped on the cab driver's shoulder and pointing out the biggest, angriest looking man in the group, before saying audibly "Yeah, he does look like a BITCH!" Then, while the cab driver was being beaten to the ground, they ran.

As the nations crossed through security, and collected boarding passes, they had to go through a metal detector.

The security guard eyed down Germany, and said "Hey, you gotta take the necklace off." Germany 'irk'd. "I can't." "What do you mean you can't?" "I mean I cant!" To prove his point, Germany yanked on the iron cross, three times.

"Bullshit." The security said under his breath, before yanking on Germany's necklace, and causing Germany to faceplant. "Oh.. Sorry... Sir.."

Germany stood back up, and gave the security a death glare that if it were to be anymore magnified, it would have turned the mortal to dust, and burnt the dust, reducing it to the only destroyed matter in history.

But Germany didn't wanna.

Prussia wore the same necklace, so the security detail didn't even try.

Italy went through with no trouble.

Romano went through with no trouble.

Japan ended up having to give all of his ancient currency to the security, and when the security asked to keep one, Japan was forced to be polite. He got the rest back.

Eventually, after many, many hours of waiting, all of the nations went their separate ways on separate planes.

 **I wrote this chapter due to my new hate and absolute terror of airports. I know this from experience.**


	7. Russian Care Package

**Under Investigation VII**

 **A whole chapter, just for Russia. Review please.**

Russia sat, overjoyed with the company currently taking pictures of him, and asking questions. The first time in a long time he'd received even fake affection from anyone.

"Mr. Russia, why are you in the U.S.?" "A world meeting took place. Everyone is here." The reporters sat motionless, apparently this being new information to them. Finally, some more reporters shown up, and started to crowd Russia.

Then a group of men in black suits entered the room.

"Everyone except Russia, leave the room immediately."

Reporters flocked out of the room.

"You have to leave." "What?" "Ivan Braginski, you have to LEAVE. The US public aren't liking the countries. You have to go. We already have a flight arranged." "The reporters seemed enthusiastic enough." The agent seemed to grow pissed off. "LOOK. The people want information. They don't like the countries. You have to leave, for your safety and ours."

Russia slowly nodded, a frown growing on his face.

He held his head so low he didn't even notice the bag over his head until it was too late.

Russia woke up in an airplane, an expensive one perhaps. "Hello, Ivan, we will be landing soon." A computer sounding voice said.

Russia pouted. "Well that wasn't nice. I never known anyone who wanted me gone that fast." A potted sun flower sat to his left, a bottle of alcohol to his right.

Soon enough, Russia's ears popped, and the plane touched down. Russia got out, and "Hmmph'd." When he got out of the plane, and the door slammed shut behind him, and the plane took off right then.

Russia began the long walk back to Moscow. The long, long walk. Eventually a convoy of three trucks came about, and circled around him, their camouflaged covers blowing around in the wind.

A man hopped down from the inside of the front truck, followed by two men carrying AK-47's.

He stopped three steps from Russia, before breaking into a smile. "So you represent us?" "Yes." "Then why you out here, in cold, no armament, no food, and seemingly nowhere to go?"

Russia took a second to think up an answer to the scarred and war torn soldier, who Russia could only assume fought on his behalf.

"Can you take me to Moscow? That'd remove all of those wrongs and replace them with rights. Well.. Except my having no gun."

The soldier with epaullete's designating him to be a colonel roared to the men in the convoy "Get this man to Moscow!" Before smiling to Russia. "Have nice day." He climbed into the lead truck again, while Russia got into the rear truck.

"I'm amazed the people recognized my face that fast." Russia said to the soldier he had sat down next to. "You kidding? Every country in world trying to find representative right now! Luckily, we have ours right here. Also, good to meet Russia."

The man across from him chuckled, "I assumed you would be more muscular, really." "Tell me," said a man nearest the front. "Are there representatives for dead nations?" "What's?"

"Oh you know.. Nazi Germany. Roman Empire. The German Empire. Soviet Russia." "Yes and no.. They can die.. But sometimes they die but are still there? Hard to explain. Like Prussia. He's technically not a nation anymore, but he's still around. Lingering around afterlife."

The soldier nodded his head, though still not feeling his question had been answered.

"So.. Nazis and Imperials?" "No. The same guy." "They adapt the opinions of their politics?" "Not unless they themselves opinion supports it."

Russia continued answering questions for the next hour or so until they reached the gates of the Kremlin. "I live somewhere else in town."

Then, a very, very, very familiar face popped into view. One normally seen photoshopped onto pictures of people riding bears without a shirt on with a hunting rifle. Putin.

"Не важно."

 **Cookies for whoever can read Russian! Anyways, if you liked this chapter (or it fits your head cannons.) Review!**


	8. German Political Issues

**Under Investigation VIII**

 **actual angst, coming up! Thanks for the review Guest, I was just getting to that.**

Germany arrived home. He looked around as he stepped off the plane, and found out rather quickly that the German public knew who he was, what he looked like, and where he was. Which was bad.

People and reporters swarmed him, asking questions and jumping at him, and people of authority had yet to show up to help him.

Germany ran through the crowd, people trying to get in his way, to stop him. He slowly realized the irony of himself and American politics.

Lobbyists are called lobbyists because they would wait in the lobby of a hotel, until a legislator came out of their room, then they stopped him and tried to talk to them. Germany was now, a very important legislator.

Germany at one point thought it was ridiculous anyone would wait that long for anything.

He was now proven wrong.

"Germany! How do you feel about the law?" "Law is just and fair!" Germany hurried past the reporter.

"Germany! Where did you first appear in Germany?" "Berlin!" Germany shoved aside this reporter.

"Germany! How ol-" "Sorry!" Germany trampled this reporter, than the mob chasing Germany trampled him.

Germany was now running into the lobby of a hotel, hurriedly trying to find the room he'd checked out last month. He ran up, opened the door, jumped in, slammed the door and then locked it.

Germany walked to the bed in the room, lied down, and attempted to sleep. Two or three hours of rest later, there was a loud knock at the door.

"Who's there?" Germany facepalmed internally. He'd forgotten to speak German to German people. "Die Polizei!" (The Police!) "Öffne die Tür!" (Open the door!) Germany slowly opened the door, and saw the police officer was in combat armor, holding a carbine. "Komm mit mir." (Come with me)

Germany had to go to the Capitol building, and apparently someone wasn't too happy with him.

"Deutschland, wu zum teufel?!" (Germany, what the hell!?)

The chancellor lost her cool very fast. "Deutschland, Leute wollen mich bei dir ersetzen! Sie denken, dass Sie alle alle repräsentieren! Sie denken, du würdest dich besser machen als ich!" (Germany, people want to replace me with you! They think you represent all of them! They think you're better than me!)

Germany stared, face sheet white pale, 'well that explains my stomach pains from earlier... The citizens are rebelling..'

Germany quickly told her a plan, a plan so stupid it might just work. Hopefully. She nagged at him not to, he didn't know if he was like America, but he told her multiple times, even had to plead at one point that he was.

*Time skip*

Germany stepped onto the podium. A good portion of Germany was here, all the rest were probably watching this on TV at home. Germany was wearing his uniform, gloves, green coat and pants.

Germany looked out over the massive crowd, and gulped. 'Please, please let there be no shooters. Please?' "Hello, Federal Republic of Germany!" He shouted out, having no microphone. He received a round of applause.

"I represent you all.. With some stereotypes and accent flips of course." He received a laugh from the audience. His head hurt, sweat drifted down his brow. He now understood how the hell America did that on stage. He used humor. Everyone in the crowd sided with America when he was 'chill'.

"I see how you all would be confused. Scared even. A man, scarred, beaten, but powerful and immortal represent's everyone in this nation? Blasphemy!" He received another laugh from the crowd.

"Let me tell you, right now, no one can do the job of governing you all better than the current chancellor. Especially not me. I may be the face of Germany, but there's gotta be a skull and a brain too.." He could hear some people struggling to stop laughing. It occurred to Germany just how effective it was to be 'chill.'

"Please, just wait for the day you genuinely need me."

"Mistaw Gawmany?" A tiny, little at most three year old girl, had wandered on stage.

The crowd went silent

The crowd gasped, and a woman and man in the crowd jumped to see their daughter on stage before yelling out a name. "Lena! Lena get down from the stage!"

The little girl, Lena, wandered forward and hugged Germany's leg. It occurred to Germany the whole nation was watching.

Germany picked up Lena, and received an "Awwww." From the German people, and a cute baby laugh from Lena.

The parents finally arrived, and Germany handed them Lena.

They smiled. They held her forward back to Germany. It took him a second to realize. He planted a tiny little kiss on the little forehead, before the parents walked off, lightly scolding the adventurous toddler.

The Chancellor appeared behind Germany, and lifted his arm up. "Germany, everyone!"

 **Well, I hope you liked this chapter. Not much angsty, I know, but.. I'm working on it. I will probably end up changing the thing, but if I scrape some more stuff together, I will. Also, isn't it cute whenever a politician is uncomfortable?**


	9. Canadian Horror

**Under Investigation IX**

 **Now that Germany's political derp was over, I have something new to write... Hmm.. What should I do... Canada! Switched up, doing horror for one chapter.**

Canada, driving home from the meeting, was irritated. No one had yet to walk up to him and say "Hey! You're Canada!" Like all the other nations had happened to them. The '67 Impala continued going down the road, until he came across a town without a name.

He saw the sign for a split second, and only got a glance at it, but half the letters were ripped off, with what looked like claw marks.

"We-ome to -ore"

Canada slowly got a sinking feeling. He could feel the citizens of his country live and breath. Mass deaths hurt him. Rioting gave him headaches. This... This was small, violent deaths. Something BAD was going on in this tiny, remote town.

He steeled his nerves, and thought of bears. Wolves. Big cats.

He thought back to the screwed up sign, and chucked to himself. "In Canada, in a town with no name, because there wasn't anyone for to give it no name, NA NA naaaa naaaaaa NA NA Ana naaaa..." He sang, shivering.

He pulled into a parking spot in front of a convenience store.

The sliding electric doors were stuck open, wedged by a man in a sheriff's uniform.

Canada ran over, to find the man was brutally mutilated. You could barely tell the green of the uniform from the blood all over it. "Cmon, cmon man.. Please don't be dead.."

The snow piled around Canada. Kumajiro hung onto his shoulders, and gasped when it got a glimpse of the downed cop.

Canada checked, and knew already officer.. Clemons.. Was out. Canada, seeking protection, took the 44. Magnum from his belt. As he checked Clemons's revolver, Canada took faith and fear in the fact Clemons didn't go down without a fight.

Five out of six shots fired off, but a second cylinder in his pocket. But this meant whatever killed the officer took five shots from a 44. Which is more than a bear ever will. Canada shook like a leaf in the wind.

Canada trudged through the snow, remembering his old policy. No man, woman, child left behind when something went wrong. 'It appears something went really, really damn wrong..' Canada thought. He listened for anyone, anyone to get up or yell for help.

'As soon as I have the chance, I'm getting the hell out of here. Via Impala or no Impala.' Canada listened more.

He heard a woman yell.

Canada rushed towards the scream, reloading the police issue revolver at the same time. He ran in, and saw the.. Thing.. Killing the woman.

It looked like a man.. But just.. Wasn't. It had grayed skin, stretched over long thin bones, and razor like teeth. It released a bird like screech upon seeing Canada, before lunging at him at what Canada could only describe as the speed of light.

It was on Canada, stabbing into him like a retarded Ostrich with kitchen knifes attached to it's toes.

Canada fired with the pistol, all his shots accurate, but doing nothing against the creature. Canada then remembered what the hell was attacking him, and disbelief washed across his face.

*120 years ago flashback*

 _Three men ran for a cabin in the middle of the snow, running from a man like thing moving very fast._

 _They slammed the door on the thing, which screeched like a stabbed peacock. One of the three men was blond, one of the three sick and wrapped in blankets, one carrying a massive shotgun._

 _It was night. The reign of this creature had begun long ago._

 _"John, WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?" "I dunno.. It's.. Scary... Hellish screeching.. Help.." The man wasn't sick. He'd been attacked. Blood soaked the blanket. "Nathan.. Help will, I'll guard the door. The thing won't pass me alive.." Nathan, Canada, struggled to comfort the condemned man._

 _"You fought the good fight Will! You helped the settlers!" Canada frantically bandaged Will. Canada considered the state of himself. He was strapped with two sixshooters, an axe, and the coolest hat in the North American west._

 _The creature slammed against the wooden walls in fury. It tried kicking the door, but to no effect._

 _Finally, all was silent. Canada heard thumping on the roof._

 _John sighed angrily. "I didn't come here to get attacked by big bad Native American legends! I came here to settle America!" "Shut up John! Will needs rest!"_

 _John sat down at the desk, resigned to his fate._

 _He sat up, his nerves turning to bright hot iron "I'm making a run for it."_

 _Canada jumped up. "No! It'll kill you!" "I don't give a damn! It's gonna get you and Will too, I know it, so I'm not gonna go out hiding!" Will moaned. "John.. Please.." "Shut up Will! You got us into this whole damn mess!" Will went silent._

 _"I ain't coming back for you weaklings. I'm letting the horses go when I get there." "You won't make it, John.." "I. Don't. Give. A. Damn." He flung open the door, and Canada slammed it shut behind him._

 _He watched John, hauling ass, sprinting through the snow._

 _Finally, the horrible screeching came._

 _It leaped off the roof, producing talons, and chasing down the man._

 _"John.." Talons ripped into the back of said man, but he kept up his sprint with a yowl of pain, slowly being covered by the roaring wind._

 _Canada and Will heard the scream over the storm. Canada assumed everyone in all fifty states heard it. He knew America FELT it._

 _The creature was still visible. He saw the bones double in size, John's body being added to the weight, and quickly being turned into nutrients._

 _The creature stood twenty eight feet tall. Crawled on all fours back towards the cabin, and resumed its position on the roof, hissing at the unlucky dwellers._

 _Will muttered something. Canada leaned in closer, and asked "What was that's?" "I said, he's right.. It's my fault.." "Oh will n-." "It's true.. Remember.. We helped that one family? The son and wife had died, leaving the man.. They had a famine.. The husband had given us soup.. I'm so, so happy you declined.." "What?"_

 _"Mathew.. That soup was his wife.. The soup was his son.." "B-but.. You had some.." "Yeah.. It turned what was once Robert.. Now Robert is trying to rip is a new one.. Look.. Mathew, you can't stay here. You can't die. I won't allow it." "You're turning.. He got you.. Why did he target you?" "They're extremely territorial.. We both pissed it off, but it knew about me.." The beast, Robert, the fourth man of the group, slammed into the door, making the wood shudder._

 _"I'll run out. He'll come for me. You got to go." "No.. You swallow me. You'll fight him. You'll win." "Mathew, no." Will stood up, shrugging off the blankets, his skin, graying, revealed._

 _Will kicked down the door, before running out and yelling "RUN MATHEW!"_

 _Mathew ran like hell. He heard Robert and Will yelling and beating each other behind him. Mathew got on the horse, and spurred. By now, Mathew was going well over how fast he thought a horse could go._

 _He turned his head, to see Will, sitting over Robert's corpse, releasing an unholy howl._

*Flashback over*

It hit Canada like a freight train. A Native American legend. A Wendigo. Not only that..

" ** _WILL!?"_**

The creature hesitated slamming a claw into Canada's skull. It slowly moved its jaw to get the feel of speaking, before drawling out with a gravelly voice, "MaAAthew?"

What was once, long, long ago Will stepped off of Canada. "HoWW are Yeew A-Alive?"

"Will.. I couldn't have died then either.. I'm a nation. I'm immortal." Country saw eye to eye with monster, "C-Canada?" The Woman lying on the ground bleeding out managed before finally succumbing to blood loss.

Canada stumbled backward from Will. Will took a couple steps forward. "Mathewww, waiIIt, no!" Canada ran at light speed toward the Impala.

He slammed the door shut, Will clawing at the side, not knowing how car doors work.

Canada stepped on the gas, and sped down the road, leaving the town and Will behind.

 **Well I changed up the genre of the story a lot. This was a chapter of horror! Wow! I know I suck at horror, but I just wanted to try it. And only people seconds into death can recognize Canada. Sad.**


	10. Prussian Efforts

**Under Investigation X**

 **Hope everyone's having a good spring break! Anyways, here's chapter ten.**

It was spring in Germany, and Prussia was sitting on a park bench, sighing heavily every time someone passed him by and didn't say anything. No "You're Prussia"'s had yet to be said. "Zhe Awesome Prussia is no half-bit nation!" He screamed out, earning some weird looks from the people around him, before they walked away.

He pouted. Before slowly growing a devious smirk The Grinch couldn't wear better.

He then made his way to Germany's home in Bonne. "Kesesese.. The previous capital of Germany!" He knocked on the door to the abandoned building. And heard nothing. Prussia snickered. He had expected nothing. He slowly opened the door, and gasped as he saw the extremely old artifacts still in the building.

A German Imperial flag (which looked a lot like Prussia's flag), a map that still features Bonne as the capital, and pre-WW1 Germany.

Wait, what?

Pre WW1 GERMANY!? Prussia screamed, a manly scream of course.

Then Prussia facepalmed, realizing it was a statue.

He walked up, and sighed at the time that only one country was known of and only by people in the capital. Did it make it worse he had the statue designed himself?

The stone man was seven feet tall, wearing a gray uniform with large aupelette's, a rifle, large black boots, long blond hair, blue eyes, and slight eyebrows.

Prussia sighed, thinking of the pre-WW1 German who disappeared long ago, leaving only the broken and tired at the time Germany of today. Prussia was the only holder of this information of course, being a little bit like Britain. Germany himself didn't know the German Empire.

Prussia saw these. Not Germany. It was like Germany was.. possessed by these.. ghosts.. And they changed him. Prussia remembered how terrible that Nazi occupier was.

The German Empire, however, was a gentle giant, though terrifying to smaller nations. He was the only personality that changed Germany physically. He enunciated words slowly, talked slowly, but was genuinely gentle at heart. A "warmer" Russia to be exact.

Though only Prussia saw this.

Not even Britain himself saw the physical changes Germany went through whenever this happened to him. Prussia prayed every night and day that Germany wouldn't find himself not acting on his own free will once again.

Prussia continued wandering through the abandoned capital, until he finally came across a room with a closed door. He listened against it, and couldn't believe his ears when he heard someone cursing in German inside.

He peeked inside through a hole in the worn down door.

He saw Germany, and gasped slightly.

Germany was moving around papers, and looking at photos and sighing.

Prussia chose his moment, and opened the door.

Germany spun around, and sagged his posture in relief. "Oh, it's you. Hi bruder!" "Ludwig, I want to be presented as Prussia. Not no one." "What're you talking about?" "I'm just still a part of Germany. Therefore, I'm Germany." "People think of you as a dead nation, how will I convince them you're a real nation, and not some idiot?" "I don't know how, I just want to be a part of zhis nations thing!"

Germany and Prussia sat at a seemingly ancient desk, and pondered. Pondered hard. Prussia quoted a certain American rabbit from the 80's, but Germany shut him up. Then they went back to pondering.

Prussia sat up suddenly, "I'VE GOT IT!" "Vas?" "At the next meeting they send you to, just bring me with you!" "Bruder, they'll have you thrown out." Germany deadpanned.

"You aren't involved in my governmental matters." "Zhen MAKE me involved! You don't have anything going on, the whole public, west AND east are recoiling at your existence, I can be the representative of the east, effectively HALFING your work load!"

Germany's eyes widened. "Gott Verdammt. I didn't know you COULD talk business." "You really need to pay more attention to me." "Okay, Gilbert, I'll do it.

"Yay! Now, what do I do?" "I'll bring you on to Berlin, and have you assigned. Danke for covering the east for me. Their public opinion is CONSTANTLY flip-flopping!"

Germany went on to complain about the east the whole way to Berlin, walking.

 **Well, that's it everyone, Prussia getting involved and lessening Germany's problems. Review, and thanks. As a forewarning, the next chapter will be a bit odd.**


	11. Prussian Efforts Pt II

**Under Investigation XI**

 **This will be like what I did on the South Pole (which no one really cared about, which I'm fine with) but this one is a little elaboration on what Prussia was talking about last chapter, after seeing the statue of the German Empire.**

It was a cold night, on the eighteenth of January, 1871.

The wind howled, but didn't cover up the wailing of a sick man, writhing in his bed.

Germany sat, squirming in his bed, yowling as pains in his stomach appeared and attacked. Prussia sat next to him, sweating up a storm, trying to find out what was wrong.

"Ach! This is horrible!" "I noticed when you said that the first fourteen times!" Germany curled in on himself, finally going out cold from pain. Prussia, however, didn't notice this. He was too busy, fretting in the kitchen getting a hot rag.

When Prussia walked in, he went silent, aside from the splat of him dropping the wet rag on the floor, and then he screamed, startling the sleeping man awake.

"Vas?" "Who the hell are you, and where is Germ-Ludwig!" The man was huge, barely fitting in the bed. His feet hung over the edges, due to his sheer height and size. "He is me now." The man said creepily, and Prussia slowly realized, whatever this thing was, it wasn't telling a lie. Blond hair, blue eyes, and a iron cross necklace.

"Let Ludwig go, demon!" "I'm no demon.. I'm The German Empire." "Empire? Says who?" "Says me." He stood up from the bed, Germany's night clothes much too small, but Prussia still found him intimidating. He had a creepy, cheerful air to him.

And Prussia wasn't having _any_ of it.

"Look, I'm gonna be here a while, and if it makes you feel any better, I didn't want to be here either. I was gliding up to heaven, and now I'm this guy, being threatened by a East German with a stick."

Prussia had to side with him, he was in Ludwig's body, and if he brought this to Britain he'd never hear the end of it. Britain had a big mouth after all. If he made Germany the laughing stock of the world, with all said and done, Angel Demon Thing ripped out of Ludwig, Ludwig would be mad too.

And Prussia came to learn that people couldn't see the western German's facial and hair length changes, only his height and muscle distribution differences.

This Germany was more muscular, and tended to lean over people instead of stare them down. He was tall enough as to where he could lean over someone, and they would have to look all the way up to see his face.

He preferred to be called Wolfgang, since that was his name. At one point, he'd died, a German citizen, and suddenly he was in another body.

Prussia was actually sad to see the Imperialist go, but happy to see the actual Ludwig, even if he had a completely destroyed economy and was beaten to a pulp.

Then HE showed up.. No, it didn't deserve that title. He was an _**IT**_ , not a **_HE_**. A similar occurrence of sickness, and another passing out, but this Germany was different from the Empire. This one was pure evil. It had red eyes, blood colored and blood shot unlike Prussia's. And also unlike the Empire, this one was **_CERTAINLY_** a demon..

It was even bigger than the Imperialist. It was taller, had more muscle to it, and had twenty million fold the evil. The Imperialist was nice, if quick to anger, but IT was ALWAYS angry. "Hello, _Gilly_!" It's singsong voice called out upon it's waking up.

"Eek! How the hell do you know my name? Who are you? What's up with your eyes?!" "Because I AM you.. And this poor bastard." "That's my bruder you're talking about!" "And I am supposed to give a damn?" Prussia glared at it, before realizing all was true. It was Prussia, mixed with Germany, an almost 70-20 balance. Bits of blond, but mostly grey. Red, but flecks of blue in the eyes.

But the face, was all Prussia. And he hated it.

"Now, if you'll get the hell out of my way, I've got a Poland to murder.." "Aye! You aren't even been in my-err-Ludwigs-and-my-body for more than fifteen minutes, you can't just go around killing nations!" It shoved Prussia into the wall, landing him on his knees. " ****." It said slowly and creepily, the voice too cheerful to have any honesty to it. This was truly a demon.

It caused havoc, and due to no one else being able to see that it wasn't Germany, but a monster, it was attacked without mercy, to the allies thinking it being another "Episode" of his.

Finally, after a long war full of death of culture, proper science, ethics, and people, it was over. The German Man Mountain finally fell, a hole placed between it's eyes by Prussia. Prussia had cried for two hours, cradling Germany and the Walther P38.

Thankfully, the west German was still alive, if only placed in a coma.

Prussia waited an agonizing forty five years before he could talk to Germany again, as the two were separated after the war ended. They wrote letters, and threw them across the two sides of the Berlin Wall, trying to maintain contact.

Prussia cried at the thought of how they had been separated.

He remembered rushing alongside a stretcher in the west German hospital, before Russian soldiers had him escorted back to the east side of the wall, against his will. "Mein bruder ist top priority! H-Hey, let me go!" "Shut up, peasant. Head back to East. Or else.." "Fuck your less convenient second option! I'm staying here!"

Those words got him hit with the butt of a rifle and thrown into the back of a cargo truck headed for east Germany, where he was forced to spend the rest of the U.S.S.R's Berlin wall's existence.

The moment the two spotted each other was amazing. Massive amounts of "Ich Liebe Dich"'s were shared, lots of hugs, and many, many celebrations afterward.

Prussia sits at night now, and prays like mad, that Germany never be possessed again. He liked him the way he was. Deutsch.

 **Well, that was short and kinda unsweetened, and I don't blame anyone for thinking this was rushed. Because it was.**


	12. Episode 0: Lennon VS Sealand

**Under Investigation XII**

 **Now that Prussian Efforts is finally, FINALLY over, we get a good look at some CIA guys digging into country history, in order to know more.**

Agent Lennon sat at an oak desk, "Clint Eastwood" playing in the background. He was assigned to look at a specific country. Russia. "I'm not happy, I'm feeling glad, I got sunshine, in bag.." He sang along as he flipped through files until finally he arrived at the first recorded instance of modern Russia, immediately after the USSR disbanded.

A picture of a large man in a trench coat, boots, and with a scarf were plastered on the obviously old photo. Agent Lennon "Hmm"'d, before picking up another photo, a picture of the same man, but with a good look at his face. Large nose. Weird eyes.

Agent Lennon dropped the photo with a "Holy shit!" As the door to his office slammed open, a giddy looking agent wearing a big grin on the other side.

"Lennon! Cmon! We got something big! As it turns out, Germany has a brother!" "Really?" "Yeah! You won't believe this, come on!" Agent Lennon chased the happy operative, keeping pace until he reached the other's office.

On the desk lay a couple pictures, some files, and more. Even some tape recorders.

"As it turns out, Nepoleon lied." "What?" Agent Lennon raised an eyebrow. "You don't remember that quote?" "No.." "'Prussia was hatched from a cannon-ball.' He was wrong." The agent snickered, as agent Lennon pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Look, do we have any Intel on this guy?" "Other than his name and such, no. Though, he's the first 'dead' nation we've come across." "What do you mean 'dead?" Agent Lennon used air quotes.

"It means the nation is disbanded, no more, you get the gist. Prussia, in the modern world, is not a self sustaining, flag bearing, armed forces having, nation." Had Prussia heard this himself, he would have strangled the annoying agent right there. But the annoying unnamed agent was right.

"So.. Now we have to expand our operation a LOT. Hehe, I wonder what The German Empire or the Roman Empire are doing right now?" Lennon's weak attempt at humor while sighing and his mental state breaking ever further on the inside, as even more work was piled on the already struggling to keep up agency. And if you're agents are all over the world and know every thing, and they can't do anything? Something must be big.

Lennon began the long walk back to his office, multiple people passing with pictures of nations, some female, most male, and then pictures thumb tacked to spots on the map. 'Huh. Honestly thought Hungary would be a dude.' Lennon kept to himself.

He finally moved into his office, and discovered a envelope on his desk. He opened it, and found a file with the words in big red ink "OPERATION: SEALAND" stamped on it. Lennon raised an eyebrow, moved to a map on the wall, and spent thirteen minutes trying to find the micro nation.

Finally, he found it, and chuckled. He looked it up, and laughed audibly when he saw that the lands of the micro nation was just an abandoned weapons platform. He began to read the rest of his orders.

'Get in contact with micro nation Sealand. Ask questions, retrieve data, and return to base. Deposit data, and then stand by. Plane to Sealand will take you in eight hours upon receipt of this mission. Go.' Wow. Lennon didn't even have to kill people! He thanked his lucky stars for an easy mission in which he didn't even have to use stealth to complete.

He strode away from his desk, eyes closed, finding his nose against the door.

The resounding thunk knocked him to his feet. He rolled his eyes, got up, opened the door, and left the building.

He had a plane to catch.

 **Well, this will be the prologue to the next chapter, which I happily dub... *DRUMROLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL* Lennon VS Sealand.**

 **Stay tuned for next chapter, and as always, review guys. Have a nice day!**


	13. Bonus! Just a little thingamajiger!

Under Investigation XIII

 **Meanwhile, as the news of dead nations spreads, an archeologist thinks of something.. Amazing.. But slightly horrifying. Disclaimer:I don't own Hetalia or anything mentioned in this chapter, or any chapter preceding or post dating this chapter.**

Two blond, tall, well muscled men sat around a table, arguing. Both had green eyes, one wearing a brown leather jacket and jeans, the other in a t-shirt and jeans.

"Samuel, this is.. Stupid." "Think about it, Jeb! Just think about it. A nation is just lands conquered by people with common ideas, and designated territories. Keep in mind, according to psychology, a nation is not a physical object you can touch, but a common idea. Before the first German arrived in Germany, it was NOT Germany! The exact same as everywhere else!"

Samuel adjusted his posture, sighing and rolling his eyes at his older brother. "Why are you telling me this?" "Because.. It means there might be fictional nations!" "Jeb, for fricks sake, you work for the government. You are government funded. They will not pay you to go on a wild goose chase!" "Just THINK about it! Atlantis! Panem! Arstotzka! Is it not an exciting idea?" Samuel pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Why do I need to know about this?" Jeb smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I forgot to tell you.. They told me I could take anyone of my choice on my next assignment." Samuel "pshhhhhh"'d and laughed. "Man, what can I do? I just graduated! I'm still trying to pay off student loans!"

"Just hold onto that thought, Samuel. Just come along. It'll be fun. You'll be making money too." That stopped Samuel in his tracks. "How much?" "If nothing is accomplished? Even then? $20,000, easily." "Heh, count me in!" Jeb smiled. "Knew that'd work."

Samuel questioned. "So.. Who are we going after first?" "Your pick." Samuel snapped out an answer as soon as he received the okay to pick. "Arstotzka!" "Really?" Jeb raised an eyebrow "That one is the most likely to be fictional, and just that, you realize?" "Yeah, but who else will ever be able to say 'I once went out to the outskirts of Russia, and found Arstotzka.'"

Jeb grinned in agreement. "Well, we better go catch a flight." "Agreed."

After a sequence of an annoying five hours spent at an airport, and many stops last whole days, they finally made it to Germany, unwittingly in the exact place they needed to be.

Jeb and Samuel walked by the remains of the Berlin Wall, looking at it, and catching the figure of a short man, sitting on some remaining rubble, sleeping. He had brown hair, a dark green trench coat, and grey, faded pants. And he wore a thick, wool ushanka. And he was almost opaque. Which surprised the brothers.

"Aren't people supposed to stay on one side of the fence.." "And not be see through? Yeah." "YO!" Samuel shouted, waking up the sleeping stranger. "You aren't supposed to be there!" The man opened his eyes, revealing dark blue irises, and rolled over revealing his pale face, despite still being quite opaque.

The man stumbled to his feet, looked around, and sarcastically said "Oh really?" He then walked right through the fence, with no resistance what so ever.

This caused Samuel to almost piss himself, and Jeb to drop his jaw as far as it would go. "What the actual fuck.." Samuel's Bostonian accent resounded off of concrete. No one was around, as it was late, and the brothers were just making their way to the next airport.

"See, I don't operate by laws.." His voice had a strange East German click to it, but a Russian-just-recently-learned-English speak impediment. "Don't affect at all." He sneered.

They recognized the symbol on the front of the ushanka, to see the symbol widely known in "Papers, Please" ... The MOA Symbol. "See.. I send many people through wall, yes? I border inspector. I help group trying to overthrow government. I end up caught, in front of firing squad. And then, I wake up here. No government. No group. Completely different reality."

"So.. You're from.. A different universe?" ".. I don't know. All I know is.. Well.. Glory To Arstotzka." "Wha-"

The author's point of view goes blank. They furiously slam a fist on top of the recording device, and audio and visual returns.

Two men and a ghost are gone. The author raises an eyebrow. They rewind the tape, and both men and ghost just disappear in a flash of bright light, off to god knows where.

Meanwhile, in another reality.

The two men are suddenly thrown into a crowded room with five men and two woman, landing on their faces. "What the hell?" "New guys!" "What?" "Welcome to Purgatory, fellas." One man says, disturbing enthusiasm in his voice. "Where are we?" "You mean, when are you? Well, you're in 1982. December 15'th. It's going to be today for a long time."

"What?" "See the guy, stamping passports?" "Yeah-wait, he's the guy we talked to before we got here!" "Mhm. And now, you're going to watch him get taken away in five.. Four.. Three.. Two.. One." He called it, as two armed men burst into the booth, running at the inspector, tackling him, and dragging him away.

"We're going to watch him get shot. Then, we begin the day over again. Watch him get shot, begin the day over again. And then again. And again some more." "Uh.. Why? What're we doing here?" "Simple:You're in purgatory." "I didn't die!" "Yeah you did." "No.. What..?" Samuel was sitting in a corner, rocking back and forth in a ball. "Oh god.. I'm going to be here forever.."

"No, you aren't. You're gonna be here for the next.. About.. Hundred years. Then, you get dropped off.. We don't know actually. It seems to be a problem in the universe. You talk to a ghost, you break the time continuum, because ghosts are like bugs in God's computing.. So he takes us out, so we don't tell anyone about this guy. Then, he drops us back in, a century later.. At least, we hope. Our native pessimist thinks we just finally die for real." "Shaddap!" "Make me."

"So.. Can you escape?" "Nope. Unless you destroy this world, and there literally won't be a tomorrow where the world exists, we're stuck in this tiny, cramped, office. Can you destroy the world from a immigrations office?" "Or.. We could.. Kill the inspector? He can't come back to do the job dead, can't he?" "You just try that."

Jeb stood up, walked forward, and slapped the inspector across the face... And nothing happened. His hand passed right through the man. Jeb tried again. The same effect. None.

"Well.. Are you sure this isn't hell?" "No."

 **Well, I think I just explained my theory on fictional countries. They appear from different realities and such. No, I don't plan on doing Panem or Atlantis. But isn't it a funny thought that the inspector could have been Arstotzka? No? And even then, be mortal. I guess not. Nvm.**


	14. Italian Antics

XIV

hey, let's finally get back to the story, shall we? I felt eyes boring into my back after a while, and decided to finally get back to it.

Italy arrived home, Romano kissing the floors and immediately denying he had kissed the floors. He wasn't right to, but it did feel great to be home. Italy wandered upstairs, and texted America

 **'Merica: How's it feel to be home?**

 **ItalianSavior: Great, but Romano is still taking it way too seriously.**

 **'Merica: He kissing the floors again?**

 **ItalianSavior: How did you know?**

 **'Merica: He always does that in NY. How about you?**

 **GrandKaiser: He should know how unhealthy that is. He knows people catch a lot of diseases from the floor, right?**

Germany had popped up, in the group chat.

 **'Merica: I thought you didn't care for him?**

 **GrandKaiser: I don't. I care for Italy's feelings. Whenever anyone, at all, ever, is sick, Italy gets all terrified. He starts making bad decisions. You remember how many times he's flip-flopped during war times?**

 **ItalianSavior: No I don't!**

 **GrandKaiser: Me, bubonic plague. America, 9/11. Britain, bubonic plague and WW1. Me again, WW1. Me again, WW2. America, France, and Britain WW2. Must I continue? Must I mention every single time any of us had a terrorist do something or riots?**

 **ItalianSavior: No..**

Italy put down his phone, and decided he should work on caring for himself and his brother. He rushed down stairs, and told Romano to stop licking the floors. Romano stood up, wiping dust on his pants, and promptly told Italy to shut up, before storming off angrily.

Italy checked his phone.

 **AwesomenessIncarnate: Italy, I'm bored.**

 **ItalianSavior: what can I do about that?**

 **AwesomenessIncarnate: Get me a ticket for a flight to Italy. I wanna go somewhere. Heh, take me down to where the grass is green and the girls are pretty, take, me, hooome!**

 **ItalianSavior: you have money, dont you?**

 **AwesomenessIncarnate: Alright, fine, I'm bringing Hungary. NOW will you pay?**

 **ItalianSavior: That's not what I asked.. But okay.**

Italy didn't much care, he could let anyone come here he wanted now. Now that his citizens knew of his existence, he could basically do what he wanted until those guys with guns show up and attack like they did with America.

He walked outside, and took a short stroll down a sidewalk, winding paths he's known forever. He heard a weird accent go "Ohmygod! Heeeyyyyyy!" Before something small and very giddy jumped on him. The wild attacker was none other than a random woman. A New Yorker to be exact.

"Hey, you're Italy right?" He nodded, before she smiled widely. "Hi! I'm Cathy!" She pulled out her phone, snapped a selfie, before Italy pulled away from her. "Hey, I've got to go. I'm very busy." "Alright, alright. Nice meeting you, Italy!" Italy walked on, head redder than one of his famous tomato's.

A nice woman had just thrown herself at him, and he'd dodged the whole thing, claiming of fake business endeavors.

He walked away, to have the exact same thing happen, a second time, different person.

Then again. And again. And again. And again.

Finally, he made it back to the Italy's home, before going upstairs, and re-dressing due to the amount of finger prints and stains and such, and in some cases even lipstick were on his fine blue uniform. Ranging from hot pink all the way to blue.

He sat down, and checked his texts.

 **GrandKaiser: Italy, people are asking weird questions.. They're talking about national alliances being friendships or even relationships exceeding thus!**

 **ItalianSavior: You mean people think we're in love?!**

 **GrandKaiser: Well.. To be blunt.. Yes.**

 **ItalianSavior: Why is this a problem?**

Italy almost FELT Germany blush, even with the many miles between them.

 **GrandKaiser: Could you just disprove this?**

 **ItalianSavior: I'll see what I can do.**

Well, next chapter we see how massively an Italian can f*ck up, shall we?


	15. Italian Antics Pt II

**Under Investigation XV**

 **Alright! We've got a thing going, finally, and also, luckily for you, no, no GerIta.. For now.**

Italy stood at a podium next to Austria and Hungary, Hungary standing very close to Austria, both smiling widely. A reporter yelled out "It's thought alliances between nations cause emotions! That true?!" "Occasionally, but in some cases not. Like between Germany and Italy over there for example."

Hungary winked, and Italy smiled widely. "Okay, three more questions, and then we leave!" Reporters and news anchors went insane.

Another reporter shouted above the others, "Hey! Are any destroyed nations still around!?" A figure walked up on stage, his grey uniform plastered with medals and such that glinted in the sunlight. He even wore some epaulettes. Prussia.

"That'd be a yes." He said aloud.

The crowd of crazed reporters and frenzied citizens was deafening, patriotic Prussians laughing and smiling, Bavarians laughing happily, and Italians sighing in relief.

Bavarians, laughing at Prussia obviously being crushed by the amount of steel hanging off his chest. Italians, sighing in relief due to the stage not collapsing, and feeling hope Roman Empire was still alive.

Prussia walked over and whispered in Austria's ear through clenched teeth, "Please make this go faster.. These medals way a shitton!"

Hungary snickered, before yelling out "Second question?"

Another reporter shoved his way to the front of the stage "Do the poles have representatives? The oceans? Fictional nations?!" All nations present on the stage shrugged, all these questions unanswered to them.

"Last question?!" "Where is Iraq?!" "No!" "Aww.." The man in the Stars and Stripes shirt moving away from the stage.

"Last question!?" "Is Poland dumb!?" "Oh shut up!" The man in the 'I love stereotypes! Shirt walked away.

"Last questions!?" "Where's Waldo!?" Hungary finally rolled her eyes, threw her arms in the air, and walked off the stage away from the podium. An equally mad man in a red and white shirt walked away.

Prussia snickered, before walking up to the podium, his voice booming over the microphone, "Hello, Germany and Allies!" The crowd replied with lots of noise.

As Prussia blathered on pointlessly, smiling the whole time, still breathing slightly heavy due to now holding the longest bench press record in the world on his chest.

"And so, I have been told I will be representing the Eastern side of Germany!" Most of the crowd looked confused, but some looked happy. Italians shrugged.

Italy sighed as the whole event came to a close. He had been under a lot of pressure from Germany to not embarrass him, as he could not report to the event. After the long wind to the end, Italy checked his phone, to find his texts to be a shrill Germany.

 **GrandKaiser: WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!? You didn't do it right! They think you're lying! I keep getting messages! Oh dear gott.. What did you do?!**

 **ItalianSavior: Sorry! I had no clue this would happen!**

 **GrandKaiser: You say that every time.**

 **ItalianSavior: Touché.**

Italy turned his phone off, sighing. Responsibility is annoying. And hard to handle. Italy ultimately decided to go back to his old ways of being a clueless idiot. It worked better and was more fun that way. He smiled, remembering the words of a Englishman not that long ago. "The truly incompetent do not know they are incompetent."

 **Well, this chapter took only so long to write. Kinda fun to write though. Review, everyone, I look forward to getting pointers on what to do next, though I plan something with Japan. Sorry if Italy is a little out of character. I like to write him this way, secretly not a dumbass, like I write my Romano to genuinely be an "idiota"**


	16. The Band of Steel

Under Investigation XVI

 **Wow! Chapter sixteen! And now, we have a derp chapter I wrote a little while ago, and just flipped the title at the top onto, and added this little bit of description. Anyways, everyone, welcome the band.**

Germany stood a podium, holding a thin stick, brow creased in concentration, barking out orders under his breath to himself, but grinning like a mad man working on Frankenstein.

Before Germany, unlike the normal crowds, was a large crowd of nations, some holding woodwind pieces. Some brass. Some sticks like his own standing in front of triangles all the way to bass drums.

America sat, trombone in hand, laughing to himself. It was his idea that everyone should meet up at a meeting and bond to make people think that they all worked together with ease a lot more often then they did. He'd kept it a secret HOW they were going to be doing that of course.

Russia sat under the tuba, maintaining quick breath, and tested the valves, flexing his fingers, a sly smile under his breath. He'd always wanted one of these. Once he'd found out what the cooperation promotion event was gonna be, he'd instantly called the tuba. He liked lots of instruments, but didn't much play the tuba. He preferred the clarinet.

Japan slouched, flute in his sweating hands, he pleading in his mind that Germany would stop conducting so fast, even if this wasn't a performance, how did Germany expect them to keep up what he was doing!? That tempo was insane! Japan took light morale in the fact he played the flute quite a bit, but only as a hobby.

Italy stood, happy about the two sticks he was holding, loving every moment as he stood before the snare drum, and while no one was looking, did a drumroll. Sure, it attracted the attention of a now crazed Germany who was focusing too hard, but America and several others smiled and laughed.

Romano, standing to his left, dead panned. "Germany, are you SURE I'm playing this!?" "Positive!" Romano held the triangle a little closer to his head, struggling to hear himself. He let out a 'tiiiiiiing.' And sighed in relief when America turned around, hearing, but no one else. At least someone heard it.

Prussia smirked, being sat down right next to Hungary, her holding a clarinet. To be completely honest, Prussia was not a music guy. Okay, he liked some. But only lyrics, never playing one of these instruments. "I wonder if the octave key on your instrument can go higher than that time his voice broke glass when you-" "I hear you!" Austria warned, sitting at the piano, as usual. Hungary giggled, much to Austria's annoyance.

Prussia looked back to the brass object in his hands, chuckling, flexing the trumpet's valves. He quickly recited the A flat scale in his head. He saw his brother, almost bursting a blood vessel from concentration, sweat coating his forehead on the podium, waving the conductor's wand like mad. "Bruder, please, breathe."

China looked down at the object in his hands, purely and crazily confused. It was an American instrument he had only seen so many times. 'This.. Saxawhatchamacallit... Saxophone! Yeah, that thing.' China looked up in annoyance, as Romano lightly tapped the gong with the triangle's stick. He tested himself a little, holding the neck strap like it might snap at any moment, cringing when the reed squeaked.

Before he knew it, Germany was in front of him, breathing heavy and it almost looked like he was about to froth at the mouth. Germany hissed through clenched teeth. "E flat scale." China quickly complied, not wanting to face the wrath of a mad conductor. Thank the lord, the reed had not failed him.

America smiled at his handiwork, the world all playing different instruments. He then got up next to Germany on the conductor's podium, and shouted "Hi! Just wanna say, it's great to see so much diversity here. Sure, one instrument can play a solo that sounds awesome," he nodded to Spain, who was holding a guitar "But man, we could sound amazing playing all together, yes?" He looked at France and England sat down right next to one another, the former holding a bassoon, the latter a piccolo flute.

America walked around the room, setting down pieces of sheet music down for everyone, special notes for every single instruments. He stood up again, saying "This is a special piece for the one nation present who isn't happy.. Other than Germany that is.. China!" China finally read the name of the piece, expecting something American, but actually found it was Dragon Dance.

At the moments notice, the weight of the saxophone disappeared, he felt almost like he was floating. America smiled for the Asian nation. "Your welcome."

He sat down, picked up his trombone, as Germany started directing, smiling like a mad scientist as he kept tempo, just slow enough as to where everyone could keep up.

Once again, China was thankful nations knew almost everything or learned quickly. He had gotten a hold of the American instrument, and played very well.

The song of the Chinese New Year festival was over, but then Russia grew a large smile, walking around and putting a new piece of sheet music on everyone's stand.

"Soviet Intentions" it read.

He sat down, everyone wearing a stupefied expression, while his remained calm. The most notable expression made came from Latvia, hands shaking and a face of pure, pants shitting horror as his hands quivered, almost dropping the French Horn, which France would've made him pay for.

As the piece began, no one knew what Russia's sheet music was. They soon learned, he was playing bass very very well, keeping just under everyone else's noise.

The song told a story Latvia and the rest of the baltic's knew very well. Small flashbacks of pain and loss and Russia's smiling face and lead pipe caused them to cringe and attempt to shrink away.

Near the end, Estonia was crying, though knew better than to stop playing, and everyone else looked really disturbed or wearing faces of daze and shock. It was, in fact, really pretty music. Hand written by the Russian himself. But they could feel fear seeping from all corners of the room's Baltic states. Even America looked confused by the end of it.

Germany was now wearing a worried expression, and put down the director's wand. "Okay everyone.. I'm done channeling my inner Leopold for the day.." America out away the trombone on a rack, mumbling in agreement as everyone except Russia stood up and put down their instruments, as Russia continued puffing out whole notes, playing fast scales.

Finally, almost three minutes later, he stopped, and put away the many feet of coiled up brass, and everyone finally got ready to leave. The mood of earlier had gone, and nations were now laughing and smiling, Prussia bragging about his trumpet skills, Estonia arguing with France and Britain over the origin nations of lots of instruments.

And if you listened hard enough you could hear Austria and Germany arguing about where Beethoven was from.

 **Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Band is fun, and after this summer, if you're in middle school or high school, join the band program. It's fun, in most there's free stuff, and fundraisers, and all other sorts of awesomeness even Prussia would gawk at.**


	17. Nekotalia crack chapter

Under Investigation XVII

 **A little nekotalia for y'all! Nation cats! I always wanted to write about these furry little f*cks, but never occurred to me how to do it.. Until RIGHT** ** _MEOW_** **!**

Germanycat sat at the windowsill, and waited. His human would be back any minute now. He meowed once or twice, making a patrol around the house. He listened to his voice echo, and considered how quiet it got sometimes.

He quickly remembered he was here with a job to do. No Maus or Ratte had been spotted alive within this house since his arrival. That was never going to change. He remembered how happy his owner was with him on his first dispatch. Not even a mess to clean up.

Finally, he heard a door click open at the front door, and made like a bolt of grey lightning to make it there in time.

Once his owner had his first foot in the door, Germanycat knew something wasn't right. The owner was carrying a crate.

"Ludwig, not now! I need to get zhis to another room." "Meow?" (What?)

Germanycat followed close behind his owner, curiosity being a strong presence. As he gave chase, his owner slowed, before setting down the crate at ground level. Inside sat..

ANOTHER CAT!?

Germany meowed and growled out "Meow! Rowr, mew.. SSS..." (What!? What is this treason!?)

As his owner grew a frown, Germanycat realized whining in a language the owner didn't understand wouldn't help.

"You play nice whis Gilbert, okay? Not a maus." He opened the door to the small crate, and the white cat stepped out tentatively.

It had a bow around it's neck similar to Germanycat's, but black, white, and black. With a weird looking falcon.

"Meow." (Hello?) The new cat tentatively asked. Germanycat straightened up, flexing it's muscles and started meowing.

"Hello. I am Germanycat. Who are you?" The new cat straightened up as well. "Why, the ever-so-awesome Prussiacat, who else?" The newcomer, Prussiacat, grinned. Germanycat just stared, confused. Why get a second cat? 'I've been nothing but good to the owner..'

Prussiacat seemed irritated when Germanycat stalked off. "Why don't you stay here and bask in my awesomeness?!" "Job." "Job!?" "Yeah. I have work here. You must too." If Prussiacat had eyebrows, they would be raised. "Job? Germanycat, we're lazy creatures meant for entertainment."

Germanycat lied down. "I've been keeping this place spotless and the owner company for more than five years." Prussiacat gawked. "Five years? Take a break!" "Nein. You might as well ask the earth to stop spinning." Germanycat found himself suddenly under Prussiacat's weight. "I force you to take a break!" Prussiacat meowed triumphantly.

Germanycat used one paw to shove off Prussiacat and continue his patrol.

Prussiacat stuck it's tongue out, and lied down on the hardwood floor, and eventually he got up, and flung himself into the owner's lap while they were doing what looked like nothing.

"Gilbert, no." They pushed him away lightly. He glared and meowed. "Aye! Human, pet me!" He meowed the exact same command, to no avail. Finally, the owner got up, and walked away, annoyed by the new cat.

Prussiacat jumped down and found Germanycat standing still as a statue at the front door. "What're you doing?" "Ssh!" "I said, what're you doing?" "SSSH!" Germanycat shushed him again. "How do I get the owner's attention?" "You do something. But, for now, SSSHHHHHH!" "What's the big deal?" "The stranger is coming today. He comes around every two weeks."

To timing so impeccable you'd say "speak of the devil" a familiar Italian stepped through the door, shutting it behind him, before turning and letting out an "EEP!"

"Hehe," he nervously laughed "Ludwig, no need to maul me.. Yeah, nice kitty.." Germanycat let out a long hiss. "Pass, faster!" The Italian inched past, carrying a box.

Germanycat followed, an annoyed look on his face, while Prussiacat trailed, curious.

Finally, the Italian set down the crate that oddly looked like the one Prussiacat had arrived in, and opened it. Upon its opening, a white cat with brown spots on it's belly, back, and head leapt out.

He seemed very happy to see Germanycat, as it ran over and leapt, knocking the two of them to the floor, causing Germanycat to yowl and Prussiacat to cackle. Germanycat dusted himself off, walked over, and batted once softly at Prussiacat's head, and meowed "Oh yeah? You try to deal with Italycat."

The owner came back after the Italian left, and sighed, before picking up Germanycat, facing him to them at eye level. "Ludwig, we're having a cat party. YOU, are host. Got it? Anyone causes trouble, you give 'em what for, yeah? Gilbert, assist Luddy in every way you can." They set down Germanycat, and they both saluted by putting their paw's above their eyes.

Just as they put their paws down, a massive man walked in, so quiet they didn't even notice the door had opened. He set down a large crate, opened it, and left just as quick and quietly as he had arrived. Out stepped a massive cat, puffy in it's fur and obviously happy.

He was mostly dark brown, with white on it's neck and tail. It stood taller than the rest, before lying all the way down, and smiled. "Hallo. Was long trip." He purred out lazily. He wore a Russian flag bow tie.

Italycat walked over, and gave Russiacat a solid shove with his paws, which of course, had no effect. Russiacat didn't even seem to notice. "Italycat, what're you doing?" "Trying.. To move.. Russiacat.. He's on.. My bed!" Italycat panted. He eventually went to walking over to Russiacat's head and waving a white flag in his face, and meowed about getting off his bed.

Finally a medium sized guy walked in the door, didn't bother setting down the crate, just opened the crate and launched the cat across the hall, and when it finally landed it stood triumphantly with a meow that sounding like a one-liner. He was tan with black around his neck, and seemed excited by everything.

Germanycat rolled it's eyes as the American waltzed around and laughed at existence, made fun of nothing, and, as it seemed, acted insane.

Germanycat heard a scratching at the sliding glass door. He called Prussiacat and Italycat over, when they arrived, they stood and clawed at the door until it seemed to finally slide open, but just enough as to where a cat could fit through.

And a cat squeezed through. It looked like Germanycat, but with white flecks and a thicker coat of fur with a small bit less grooming, and was much, much bigger. Somehow, it, who Italycat identified as a she, had fit through, and walked into the house, startling the other cats who hadn't come with the original trio.

It meowed, casting a glance to Germanycat. "Hello." "German Empire Cat?" Italycat squeaked out. "Who?" Italycat turned to Germanycat, smiling "Sometimes I see dead cats. Hey, Germanycat, say hello to your gramma!" Germanycat promptly fainted, faceplanting.

"Well, that was fun."

 **Well, this chapter can be one of my crack-fic chapters, yes? This'll probably be the first and the last of them.**


	18. No Encore

**Under Investigation XVIII**

 **No Encore.**

Ireland sat, ordering a drink in the African cafe. It was in the 60's, and the Cold War enveloped getting power over Africa, previously ruled by the Belgians, Katanga. He'd been sent alongside 199 other Irish soldiers, sent by the UN to a small out post called Jadotville.

A man in a grey uniform and a scarf, with a stubble and a glass of brandy walked over and sat down. "They don't want you here you know.." His French accent rang. "What does it matter? Here to make the UN proud and keep peace." His tone sounded true, but he knew the true purpose of his mission.

To prove a point. The point was Ireland, as a country, was capable, and took no shit. From anyone. At all. Ever.

"See, Irishman.. There is a flaw in your logic.. Your country has never been to war. How can you hold peace without even knowing war?" Several Katangan's laughed "Guess we'll find out." Ireland grunted. He got up, called the rest of the Irishman, and left, knowing had he been there any longer, something had was bound to happen.

He didn't like that Frenchman's tone..

Once he arrived back at the base, he looked around. It was flat from every angle except the east. He climbed up a guard tower, and picked up the sniper's rifle sitting there, before looking down the scope at the surroundings. He went to bed, slumped against the walls of the tower, so when he woke up, he quickly realized..

He was late for the religious ceremonies! He heard singing coming from a tall hall that stood about fifty feet away.

He thought about climbing down, but then he thought he heard rumbling. He turned his head, and couldn't believe his eyes.

He swore, it was a small army of men attacking the outpost. A hundred at least. He picked up the rifle, and aimed at the men, before turning around. "AYE! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK! WE'RE UNDER FOCKIN' ATTAAAAACK!"

His voice was drowned out by the song. He rolled his eyes, and turned around, before firing a round at the church bell.

The resounding 'DIIIIIIIIIIING' brought soldiers yelling and cursing out of the building, before they too saw the massive militia, with a Willy's Jeep at the front, and it was easy to see.. It was the Frenchman manning the fifty cal.

Weapons were picked up, men dove into trenches, before firing at the charging mercenaries. They came careening into within five hundred feet of Irish lines, but it was really hard to miss.

After twenty minutes of Ireland plinking off shots, cutting down Katangan's, they finally seemed to run out of forces. The Frenchman gave him a glare that could set paper alight, and blew a whistle. Mercenaries ran here and there and scattered, running away frantically. "CEASE FIRE!"

Three or four more shots flew.

"I SAID CEASE, FIRE!" Ireland shouted, walking forward and using two fingers to jab the accused soldier in the chest. "We're gon' go, we're gon' call base, and we're gonna get our asses out of here. They'll come again." The Irishman was furious, rushing into the command part of the small, almost tiny outpost.

He picked up the phone, almost yelling "Why are the bloody natives attacking us!?" He shouted. He knew the person on the other end had dropped the phone. "I don't know bro! Talk to the Katangan president!" The American seemed frantic as well. "GET OUR ASSES OUTTA HERE!" "We can't!" "WHAT DO YA MEAN YA CANT!?" The Irishman was nearly screaming now.

"It means we can't! They've got you boxed in on all sides! We detected an aircraft circling you guys." The American seemed sad with himself. "Then shoot the focker down!" "We can't! We NEED to have good relations with Katanga! They will NOT be happy if we go around shooting down their Air Force!" "We already have fucked up relationships with Katanga! They're obviously already shootin' at us!" The Irishman roared.

He toned down, tone full of venom. "IF YOU DON'T SEND BACK UP OR GET US OUT OF HERE BY TOMORROW, THEY'RE'LL BE A NEGATIVE EXERCISE." He slammed the phone down on the receiver, and stalked off.

A wary private stood away from the door he'd slammed. A Sergeant prepared to follow the pissed commander. "What's a negative exercise mean?" "It means, we're focked." He said, picking up his gun and giving chase.

The next morning, all was quiet. 'Except for a low humming. Wait.. Low humming?' Ireland sat up, rubbing his eyes. An explosion shook him fully awake, forcing him to jump a foot or two in the air, hurriedly clothing himself and grabbing his rifle.

"WE'RE UNDER ATTACK 'GAIN!" He yelled, running toward a covered position.

He saw men he was in charge of running in everywhich direction, and rolled his eyes. "GET YOUR ARSES IN A TRENCH!" He roared as the low hum arrived again. He felt the world shake under the explosion, soon realizing what was firing at them. "

"MOOOORTAAAAAAAR!"

The mortar waited another four or five seconds before flinging another shell in their direction, blowing away more dirt uselessly.

He saw an Irishman running frantically, carrying a mortar and a round on his shoulder. "I don't know how to use this shite!" He shouted, as Ireland rushed over top the trench and helped the Irish soldier set up the mortar, barking orders and putting together outdated crap at the same time.

Finally, the mortar was operational after a shell had landed a lot closer than comfortable. "Fire!" He yelled, dropping a round down the tube, listening to the 'FWOOOP!' It had made as the round careened over the horizon.

He saw a small explosion at first, but sudden mushroom clouds appeared around the smaller one.

"Hahaha!," he grinned "Ammo-rack! We took out the whole damn battalion without seein' 'em!" He fistpumped, and saw the infantry come over the horizon. He almost laughed when fifteen or sixteen of them came screaming, arms in the air and bodies ablaze yelling "Fumer! Fumer!"

After several minutes of gunfire, he heard something he hoped wouldn't come. A shriek, but not from a mortar. From a wounded Irishman.

He turned and saw the man next to him who had been manning a machine gun, cupping his face.

He moved the younger man's hand, and sighed in relief seeing it was a graze. It was very close, and there was blood everywhere, but nothing terribly serious. He quickly bandaged his head, and tried to shush the younger's screams.

He looked up and saw the Frenchman on the jeep just upon the three hundred foot mark from the outpost. He had firey hatred in his eyes, as he told the driver to floor it, spraying fifty caliber bullets at the walls. Not a single Irish soldier was hit, however.

He put his rifle to his shoulders, grimacing with just the same hatred, as he put a bullet right between the driver's eyes. He watched eagerly as the jeep flipped and tumbled, and frowned as the Frenchman climbed out of the wreck, shaking a fist at him. He replied by popping a hole in the Frenchman's hand.

He heard "MERDE!" After the Frenchman ducked, and run/crawled away. He saw him pull out a whistle, blowing it repeatedly signaling the attack as a failure, and to retreat.

After a few more shots had been exchanged, Ireland was thankful none of the Katangans heard the last 'CLICK's and 'SPYONG's of rifles and machine guns, out of ammunition. And out for good too. He drew his 1911, and held it close.

Irish soldiers of all races and backgrounds created a circle around the officer.

"We are out of ammo, sir." A private pointed out.

"Shall we go out with a bang, men!?" He shouted. "YES SIR!" Was the unanimous reply. "We do not fade quietly under a haze of defeat, we go out crying our war cry, holding the banner high, yes!?" Again, "YES SIR!" Was heard from every Irish soldier. "THEN WE BETTER FOCKIN' PULL THIS OFF!" "YES SIR!" I know.." The Irish officer scratched his chin. "Collect every empty case you can find. Do we have any explosives?" "We have dynamite sir." The Irish officer grinned widely.

Soldiers rushed off in every which direction, picking up spent ammo casing and carrying them back to the commander. All in all, they had ninety-two shots left. Ninety-two shots between two hundred soldiers. The men who still had ammunition were forced to give it up to Ireland, who carried a heavy machine gun, a water cooled browning.

when they collected all the spent ammunition, they put dynamite in two small crates, then filled the small crates to the brim with explosives, and set a long tripwire between the east and west ends of the triangle formed by the three buildings of the outpost.

"What makes you so sure they'll come from that direction, sir?" "I don't know." He said quietly.

He heard rumbling, coming from the direction he had planned. "I mean.. Of course I knew!" He said, rushing into a trench dug dead center, thirty feet behind the massive tripwire, setting up his machine gun. He looked at the 92 round belt, whimpering lightly so no one would hear him.

He saw the first few Katangans come over the horizon. Some were teens, wearing necklaces made of bullets, and vests. They got within three hundred feet, and stopped to fire. All of the Irish soldiers hid in the buildings. They were making a message. Literally. The south building directly behind Ireland had spray paint on it. 'YOU WANT US? COME GET US, BITCHES.'

The Katangans growled, charging with the fury of a rhino. The first fifteen or so's boots tramped over the tripwire, but none saw it. They were reduced to mush by machine gun fire. Finally, a Katangan misplaced his footstep.

Ireland ducked, plugging his ears. He would surely be annihilated in the explosion.

An earth shattering **boom** shook the world, the air smelling of burning flesh and melted copper. Ireland saw everything in slow motion, his body flung by the explosion, even though he'd ducked. " _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA_ -!" He came in contact with the ground, blacking out.

 _'Am.. Am I dead?' He questioned, the whole world a dark abyss. He saw nothing, before he felt a burning sensation on his hip. He keeled over, hissing from pain. Suddenly, there was a flash. Ireland opened his eyes._

Ireland discovered he was still alive. He saw Katangan arms here, Katangan legs there. 'How'm I alive?' He almost questioned aloud. The burning on his hip was still there, he figured it was shrapnel from a molten round. Well, at least the wound cauterized itself.

He felt his head pounding, until he finally stood up, getting onto his hands and knees, before standing.

His military jacket was completely burnt to a crisp. His undershirt had saved him. His pants were fairly untouched, boots the same. His helmet was history, smashed in half on the ground.

He growled, pulling his 1911 off his belt, limping in the direction of the Katangan attackers. "CMON!" He shouted, limping quicker. "COME HERE FOCKERS!" He shot one or two Katangans, putting about four rounds into every one. He fired off his last round into the air.

He came back to reality for a second. He was about fifty feet away from the outpost. There were Irish eyes poking out through holes and windows, watching him. Katangan rifles were pointed at his head, no fire coming out of the barrels however.

He heard a low humming

Tires screeched.

A door slammed.

The Frenchman stood, left hand bandaged thoroughly.

"You mother fucker.." He limped angrily toward the French legionnaire.

The Frenchman drew a revolver, pointing it at Ireland.

"Give. Up. I don't want to shoot you, but I will do it."

Ireland panted, looking around, crazy eyed at the Katangans. He stumbled up to the Frenchman, raising his fist. Rifles were shouldered, but lowered then as he shook hands with the French soldier. "Well played, Irishman. Well played." He holstered his revolver, getting back in the new jeep, racing off.

Ireland's vision goes black.

( _Narrator POV)_

Two hundred Irish soldiers went to Jadotville.

Two hundred Irish soldiers went to prison, after the long and hard fought siege.

Two hundred Irish soldiers came home, after being on death row for so long.

Two hundred Irish soldiers were not honored,... Until now.

( _Ireland POV_ )

Ireland jumped out of the plane, grimacing. He walked up to the officer who had sent him on the mission to hold the outpost.

"This is an embarrassment to the UN. They're sweeping this under the rug as best they can as we speak." Ireland bit his tongue. "We held the base for four days under intense fire." "Not good enough." Ireland looked around, looking away, before jumping up, upper cutting the superior officer, before walking off toward the rest of his men.

The rest of the men saluted him, one by one.

Ireland let one tear slip, saluting back.

The superior officer talked with the nurse of the base. "You can court martial him you know.." "No.. No I had it coming." He replied.

 **AND WOW HOLY SHJT THATS A LONG CHAPTER. Sorry I've been gone forever, school has consumed me as of recent.**

 **This is a parody, not a plagiarism. It's the Hetalia version, to me, of The Siege of Jadotville. And even then, I've cut huuuuge sections of it out and such. Anyways, hope you enjoyed. Again, sorry I've been gone.**


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